


A Moonlit Walk

by PwiPwiPoo



Category: Hellsing, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Also a Dash of Abridged, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, F/F, Ghouls, Hard to Describe Honestly, Hellsing AU - Freeform, Horror, Minor Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Nonbinary Adora (She-Ra), Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Not In Love, Primarily Based on the Hellsing Anime and Bits of Ultimate, Trans Adora (She-Ra), Vampires, might become a series?, slight blood play, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PwiPwiPoo/pseuds/PwiPwiPoo
Summary: The woods outside of the village of Cheddar are deathly silent; the songs of crickets and owls absent, driven away by the stench of death and evil that permeates every inch of the quaint English hamlet.Grass and foliage cracks under the foot of a stranger as they emerge from the forest; their crimson coat, coal black suit, and bone white gloves cut the moonlit night like a bloodied obsidian blade glinting in the darkness.They raise their face to the sky as a dark cloud briefly passes across the waxing moon, the dappled light reflecting off the orange tinted sunglasses hidden under their large brimmed hat.Far in the distance, in the center of town visible from the hill the stranger stands, the crack of machine gun fire and the terrorized wails of dying men shatters the silence.The stranger’s fangs glean in the light as a smile creases their lips.“What a marvelous night,” they say as a shiver of anticipation rattles their voice. “The sort of night that makes me want to go for a bite to drink.”The stranger leisurely strolls onward to the town shrouded in death and fear. Humming a light tune as they march onward into Hell.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	A Moonlit Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for blood, gore, and some kinky blood play stuff at the end. Based on the Hellsing series.
> 
> (Also slight edit for people who already read this, I didn't realize that my formatting for one bit got fucked up, so I went back and fixed it. You'll notice the changes when you see them)
> 
> Another note: This is fic and au is not, I repeat, not related to Castlevania, the Van Helsing film, or any SPOP related aus of the above properties.

The woods outside of the village of Cheddar are deathly silent; the songs of crickets and owls absent, driven away by the stench of death and evil that permeates every inch of the quaint English hamlet.

Grass and foliage cracks under the foot of a stranger as they emerge from the forest; their crimson coat, coal black suit, and bone white gloves cut the moonlit night like a bloodied obsidian blade glinting in the darkness.

They raise their face to the sky as a dark cloud briefly passes across the waxing moon, the dappled light reflecting off the orange tinted sunglasses hidden under their large brimmed hat.

Far in the distance, in the center of town visible from the hill the stranger stands, the crack of machine gun fire and the terrorized wails of dying men shatters the silence.

The stranger’s fangs glean in the light as a smile creases their lips.

“What a marvelous night,” they say as a shiver of anticipation rattles their voice. “The sort of night that makes me want to go for a bite to drink.”

The stranger leisurely strolls onward to the town shrouded in death and fear. Humming a light tune as they march onward into Hell.

* * *

“So, Sparkles, tell us,” a young dishwater blonde man claps his arm around a pink haired young woman as he holds an invisible microphone up to her face. “How does it feel to go marching off into the jaws of death for Queen and Country?”

“Fuck off Scott! And I’ve said this a thousand times already, don’t call me Sparkles! I hate that nickname.”

Scott throws his head back to laugh but yelps as he hits his head against the APC. The rest of the group laughs at the man as he shoots a scowl at each of them, accompanied by a vulgar hand sign. A middle aged man sitting in the passenger seat of the APC leans back to shout at the jovial group of police officers.

“Stuff you lot! Pull your head out of your arses and get ready, we’re almost there. Glimmah,” the older gentleman points out the pink haired officer, “mind giving us a rundown of the situation?”

“Yes sir, Sergeant Hemsworth!” Glimmer responds as she salutes her commanding officer, “We are en route to the village of Cheddar to investigate a rash of missing persons reports that may have been perpetrated by the town’s priest. Two police units have already been dispatched but there has been no word from either for the last three hours. We have been ordered to investigate and assess the situation, reinforcing the units already deployed. Sir!”

Sergeant Hemsworth nods as he grunts his approval. “Very good, at ease. The suspect is presumed to be armed and dangerous, I don’t want any of you idiots dying because you wanted to play being a hero. That goes double for you, Samson.”

Samson, a baby faced redhead, scrunches up his face as he aims a retort at the commander. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well it’s quite simple, really,” a raven haired woman with striking brown eyes chimes in, “All you yanks have a compulsion to be the next Rambo. Kick down the door, guns blazin’, screamin’ ‘’Murica’! That’s the boss tellin’ ya to keep your Americanness in check. Got it?”

“Hey, don’t call me a loose cannon! Wasn’t it you, Ms. Casandra Crowder, who rushed into a crack den, ignoring orders, and proceeded to shoot up the place?”

“Well one of us has to keep the unit interestin’. Can’t expect Sparkles to set off a glitter bomb every week, now can we?”

Glimmer shouts at Casandra, “That only happened once!”

Scott chuckles as he rubs the back of his sore head. “Once is enough to be labeled Sparkles for life, kiddo.”

Glimmer throws an elbow into Scott’s side, connecting with the metal plates of his bullet proof vest. Tears well up in her eyes as her elbow throbs in pain, much to the amusement of the rest of her unit. Commander Hemsworth pinches the pressure building at the bridge of his nose as he unhooks the microphone of the CB radio.

“Headquarters this is Sergeant Hemsworth of unit Delta-11, checking in. We are approximately,” he looks down at the blinking GPS screen in the middle of the dash, “fifteen minutes away from the rendezvous point. Any word from the other teams? Over.”

The radio crackles with static before a voice comes over the other line. “Epsilon-02 checked in earlier but we haven’t heard anything from them since. Still no contact with units Gamma-09 or Alpha-19, presumed contact with unknown hostile forces. We advise extreme caution when investigating the village, be prepared for any eventualities. Over.”

“Will do, headquarters. We shall check in once we reach the village and every ten minutes hence. Over and out.” 

* * *

“I beg your pardon,” the police field commander says with a wry chuckle, “I believe I misheard you, Madame Hellsing. Could you repeat that?”

Heterochromatic eyes, the left a warm amber and the right a cold blue, stare past the young woman’s chestnut bangs as a tired sigh leaves her. Her gaze travels to the box of cigars held out by the older woman standing at her side; she takes one of the cuban cigars with a gloved hand as her other cuts the tip with pocket-sized cigar cutters. Her lips part as she slips the cigar into the side of her mouth, she waits as the old woman lights it with a gold plated lighter she produces from her vest pocket. The young woman takes a drag and releases a stream of heady smoke that curls around her slender face and the silver cross she wears on her cravat.

“Very well, commander, but I do hope you listen to me this time. I do so hate having to repeat myself. First I am not Madame Hellsing, that would be mother. I am Sir Catra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, please do get it right next time.”

“You are facing no simple madman or homegrown terrorist organization. The malady that is plaguing Cheddar is a vampire, a God forsaken beast from the very depths of Hell itself. And at its beck and call is an army of ghouls, walking corpses that grow with each kill person the vampire kills. So if you wish to give this bastard more conscripts please, send in more troops, send in every last one of them if you wish to make the problem worse. But be kind enough to not send any virgins of the opposite sex into the grinder, lest you wish to damn them to a face worse than death as a vampire, forced to wander the earth forever with an insatiable hunger for human blood.”

The field commander swallows a lump of fear down his parched throat. A shaky hand reaches into his breast pocket for a white handkerchief, using it to soak up the beads of sweat that refuse to stop forming on his brow. Loosening the choking tightness of his tie, he tries to compose himself under the raze sharp eyes of the bespectacled young aristocrat before opening his mouth again.

“I-I must confess, Ma- _Sir_ Catra, this seems rather far fetched. I mean really, vampires and zombies? This is utter fantasy! B movie horror dross.” 

The butler shoots a glare at the inane bureaucrat then turns her old gray eyes to her employer. Catra’s face is a mask of calm but her eyes burn with indignation in contrast; she takes one last drag on her cigar before lowering to the table before her, intentionally missing the ash trash to grind the end into the plastic table.

“I’m sorry, I forgot I was talking to a spineless low-level bureaucrat who has never seen anything past his boss’ old, puckered anus. Of course you would not be privy to such confidential details such as the existence of mankind’s greatest enemy. When you are given your big boy pants and allowed to sit at the table with the rest of the adults, then you will learn that when I speak on the matter of vampires and other supernatural and satanic threats, then you better shut that pale arsehole you call a mouth and listen to me.”

The radio crackles to life as Sir Catra stares down the lowly commander, the radio operator tunes into the correct frequency; the scene is chaotic, gunfire and shouts can be heard under the muffled static. The person on the other line babbles incoherently, rambling about undead monsters and her entire unit being dead. A shrill scream pierces the speakers as an inhuman groan envelopes the broadcast before it cuts out.

“The-,” the radio operator says with a shaky voice, “that was unit Delta, sir.”

The field commander stares at the radio, all color washed from his face; his body slumps into the nearest fold out metal chair like a heavy sack of potatoes. His buries his head in his hands as the horror sets in.

“Dear God, we’re doomed.”

“Not just yet.” 

The room turns toward Catra as takes her coat from her butler’s arms. Her eyes shine with unbreakable confidence as she smiles at the cowering room of men.

“The Hellsing Organization has already mobilized our most powerful asset. The situation is well in hand, the vampire and its horde will be neutralized within a few hours.” Catra’s long chestnut hair cascades down her shoulders as she dones her overcoat; she waves back at the commander and his party with a parting ‘Gentlemen’ before striding confidently out of the tent.

Catra stops in the middle of the staging area and looks up at the nearly full moon. The cold blue light dances off her glasses in delicate little glints that disappear as soon as she tilts her head one way or another.

Her rumbles tiredly over her shoulder to her butler, “Have you heard from Alucard yet, Razzel?”

“Not yet, sir,” the old woman answers as she removes her spectacles and an embroidered handkerchief from her pocket. “But it shouldn’t be long before they have completed their mission. Say what you will about their personality and methods, but they do get results.”

Catra hums in response, eyes still transfixed on the moon; she lets the cigar drop from her mouth into the grass beneath her. The orange glow of the cigar grows brighter as the grass beneath it alights, fresh blades of grass with and char as the ring of fire spreads. The tiny inferno creeps closer to a small batch of pink flowers, its engine of destruction growing ever more hungry as it devours the fresh grass before it, until a polished brown leather shoe comes down upon its flickering crown and squelches it. 

* * *

Glimmer curses under her breath as the magazine refuses to go into her pistol, trembling hands desperately trying to reload a futile attempt at defense.

“Please go in,” she whispers desperately to the inanimate object, “please go in. Come on come on. Yes!”

The fresh magazine slides in smoothly, relief washes over her as she cocks the slider back and lets it snap back into place. The reprieve is short lived as specters of fear and guilt crawl into her mind like porcelain spiders, their sharp, pointed feet cutting shallow gashes into her soul. Glimmer tries to close her mind to them, bar the gates to her last bastion of safety and sanity, but they are too great and flashes of memory play in her head like a perverted documentary of her failings.

_Why didn’t you stop the Sergeant when he went to check that body in the road? You knew something was wrong, you could have stopped him from getting his throat ripped out! Poor Scott, he became one of those_ things _because he tried to save you, you worthless waste of space. How did it feel to shoot Casandra, your biggest bully, right in her ugly mouth?_

_You’re weak!_ _I bet you enjoyed watching them die!_

 _She’s a coward._ _Weakling!_

 _Hahaha!_ _Pathetic._

 _Little monster._ _A failure, through and through._

 _They’re dead because of you!_ _Dead!_ _Dead!_

 _Dead!_ _DEAD!_ _Deaaaad._

 _Dead!_ _Dead!_ _DEAD!_

_All of them dead, because of you._

_Just like your mother!_

Glimmer screams at the top of her lungs, “STOP IT! This isn’t my fault! I didn’t sign up for this, I wasn’t trained to fight monsters! It- it- it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault, its-”

Cracking twigs in the treeline brings Glimmer back to reality, her gun moves before she does as she aims it at the shadow moving through the darkness. The figure steps out into the moonlight, another one of those monsters; gray, decomposing skin stretched taught over stiff bones as it shambles closer to her with its ugly mouth open twice as wide as a normal human’s. Glimmer fixes her stance as she steels her resolve, hands still with a calming breath.

“It’s not human, it’s not human, it’s not human.”

As her finger prepares to squeeze the trigger, the ghoul howls in anguish as a gloved hand pierces its chest from behind. The creature writhes on the arm as it’s lifted off the ground, the ruby red dress shoes it wears slipping off its feet as it dangles in mid-air. Cold red blood seeps from the gaping hole in its chest, it trickles down the length of its body until it reaches its toes when it drips drips to the ground; no blood touches the green earth as the once life giving fluid crumbles in the wind in specks of gray ash, followed by the rest of its body, scattering into the cold night.

With the corpse gone, Glimmer can see the owner of the white gloved arm clearly in the moonlight; the person standing before her is tall, incredibly tall, dressed in a long deep red duster with a matching wide brimmed hat and cravat. The suit they wear is tailored, clean cut, and as dark as the night itself.

But the thing that draws Glimmer’s gaze is none of this, but the stranger’s eyes; although they are hidden behind orange tinted glasses and rimmed with golden blonde hair, she can feel them pulling at her, a mysterious magnetism that refuses to let her go. 

“Beautiful night, isn’t?” 

The velvety tones of the stranger’s deep voice sends a jolt coursing through her body, the class and normalcy of this person catching her off guard. This feeling is quickly doused when the stranger smiles and Glimmer can see their long, sharp fangs.

“Especially if you’re a God forsaken blood sucker!”

Panic takes hold of her finger as Glimmer fires her weapon. The stranger staggers momentarily as the bullet passes through them, clipping off a hunk of their shoulder, before recovering; a laugh rumbles in their throat as the missing bones, flesh, and cloth mends itself in a matter of seconds.

Glimmer stutters, “You-you’re not human! You're a monster like them!” Without waiting for the stranger to respond, she turns on her heels and runs further into the forest, not daring to turn back.

* * *

“Hello?” 

Glimmer calls out as she pushes open the door of the old church, the creek of the ancient metal hinges and her voice intermingles as they echo in the empty building. She steps inside with a weary step, her pistol at the ready; as she steps through the slits of moonlight that peak through the shattered windows, Glimmer stops at the sound of a match striking in the distance.

“Who’s there!?”

Glimmer’s barrel follows the dim light produced by the match as it lights the two golden candelabras on either side of the altar. The dimly lit outline of a face appears behind the match before it is snuffed out; a priest walks out of the shadows into the light of the candles and natural moonlight. 

“Fear not, my child. The Church has always extended sanctuary to those who are in distress.” The priest moves over to the altar, a pale hand running along the length of the finished wood as a smile creases his lips.

Glimmer swallows in a dry throat. “Hello- Good evening, Father.”

“Good evening to you, my child.” The priest looks over at Glimmer, the flicker of the candles dance in his blood red eyes. “Poor little lamb. Those beautiful eyes of yours, so young and full of life, clouded by fear of the evil creatures that roam outside these hallowed grounds.”

“What do you- ah,” Glimmer grunts as she feels a fog cloud her senses. She looks back up at the priest who is standing a few feet in front of the altar, “You- you’re not a priest are you? I’ve been tasked to stop a priest, but you’re not like them. Like those monsters-”

“I assume you mean the ghouls outside.”

“Ghouls?”

“Yes,” the priest says as he slowly starts to walk to Glimmer, “they are the undead thralls of the vampire. The remnants of the humans that the vampire has fed upon, reanimated and devoid of their humanity, subject to the vampire’s every command.”

The fog in Glimmer’s head gets heavier as the priest draws nearer, she tries to step back but her feet feel as if they are stuck in thick mud. She blinks and the man is closer, almost within arms length; she tries to speak but the cotton feeling of her mouth prevents any words from coming forth. Although her body feels numb, she can still feel this man wrap his arms around her, feel the strength that he carefully subdues as he cradles her.

“Although, not every human we feed upon becomes a ghoul. For example,” he pauses as he runs the back of his finger down Glimmer’s neck until he reaches her clavicle. “It would be a waste to spoil your virgin beauty by turning you into a ghoul. I shall take away your pain and bring you into a world of unending pleasure.”

Glimmer grits her teeth as she fits through the muck invisible bindings that hold her body; with great effort, she lifts her pistol to the priest’s head, centering the barrel between his eyes as the vampire smiles at her with sadistic glee.

“I will,” Glimmer forces the words out of her disobedient mouth, “I will shoot you. I’ll bl-blow your brains out and then everyone… everyone will see that you’re a mon- a monster…”

The gun trembles in Glimmer’s hand as she tries to pull the trigger, the strength she mustered to put it there suddenly leaving her. As the priest’s crimson eyes and toxic smile corrode her soul, she is thrown out of her trance at the sound of wood and metal shattering. She turns her head to the source of the sound, drunken eyes staring at the hole in the church doors and the crimson and black figure behind it.

“I think you’ve said enough,” a familiar velvety voice says from the busted door, “you Goddamned shitheel!”

“And who might you be?” the priest asks the stranger.

“My name is too good to be said by filth like you, but I will acquiesce. My name is Alucard, and I am but a humble servant to the Hellsing Organization, tasked to dispose of putrid shit like yourself.”

The priest cackles as he spits out his retort, “Shit like me? Ha! Who do you think you’re talking to? Are you daft?”

Alucard purses their lips in thought. “You’re right, calling you shit is inaccurate. Shit has a purpose, unlike yourself. You’re more like the smegma that forms under the head of a fetid cock. And with that bargain bin costume you have the metaphor is even more apt.”

Alucard steps through the hole they made in the door, their long black boots clacking along the stone floor as they stride toward the priest and Glimmer.

“Look at yourself, wearing those ridiculous priest robes. Have you no shame? I thought smegma could at least feel shame. Guess we’ll need to change your designation again.”

The priest growls through gritted fangs, “I think it’s time for you to meet your end.”

As if on command, ghouls begin to spring up from the pews on either side of the aisle. Glimmer looks over them all in the pale light; each of the dozen or so ghouls present are from the police force, all heavily armed. Looking further to her right she can see the characteristic moustache of her old captain as his bloodied arms raise his machine gun.

“Captain…” Glimmer says weakly.

Alucard is unfazed by the sudden ambush, still leisurely making their way closer and closer to the priest and Glimmer.

“Hiding behind slaves to do your dirty work because you are too cowardly and incompitent to do anything on your own. The lowest depths of Hell are too good for a cancerous anal polyp like yourself!”

“Oh just kill the bastard already!”

A large cloud passes over the moon as the ghouls begin to fire, muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness. The hail of bullets tear through Alucard’s body, ripping holes in their body and tearing off chunks of flesh and cloth. One second takes off half their face, three seconds removes their left arm and the fingers of their right hand, and after ten seconds of continuous fire the priest snaps his fingers and the guns go silent; Alucard’s bullet riddled body slumps forward and falls limp into a pool of their own blood and entrails, the shattering of their sunglasses echoing in the now silent church.

The priest chuckles. “All bark and no bite, and so ends the human’s pet vampire.”

Glimmer’s heart sinks as she stares at the lump of tattered cloth and meat on the ground before her. This person, this stranger she met for only a fleeting moment, was her only hope of getting out of her current predicament. But now all hope seems lost.

But then she hears something, a crackling noise like thousands of insect legs clicking together in rapid succession. She scans the room of the source of the sound until she finds it in an unlikely place; the corpse of the recently deceased Alucard. A cold shiver runs down her spine as a wry chuckle comes from the body, she stares in horror and awe as the splattered blood begins to flow back towards the body and tendrils of black shadows stretch and wriggle out of their severed body parts. As the blood and shadow tendrils coalesce on the body, Glimmer can hear the priest say ‘Oh god’ under his breath as Alucard pushes themself up and looks right at them.

Alucard’s face is hidden in shadows, save for their vibrant red eyes that shine with excitement and their grinning mouth.

“Good effort but shooting me isn’t going to cut it,” they say with unrestrained glee as they stick an inhumanly long tongue at them.

“You’re one of us,” the priest exclaims breathlessly. The priest’s voice begins to waver as Alucard stands up, their body almost fully repaired, “Don’t just stand there, keep firing!”

The ghouls level their weapons as Alucard reaches into their coat, pulling out a large silver pistol that gleans in the moonlight. They aim the weapon to their right as they stare into the priest’s eyes, and pull the trigger; the gun fires like a cannon, the bullet rending large holes through the ghouls as it passes through a couple of them. Before the others react Alucard empties round after round after round into the shambling masses until the only thing left is a cloud of ash that hovers in the air.

The priest’s voice wavers as he tries to reason with Alucard, “Stop this! You’re a vampire too, why are you doing this?”

“Do not lump me in with the likes of you,” Alucard says as they slide a fresh magazine into their pistol, “you act more like a filthy cockroach than a _real_ vampire. Left to your own devices you would cover the world in more of your filth.”

Alucard bites down on the slide of their pistol as their crimson eyes burn holes into the pathetic priest vampire. They slide the chamber back before continuing their speech, “Filth like you makes me sick, you don’t have the grace or self respect to be a vampire you undead maggot. You barely know what you are! You don’t deserve to know my reasoning for serving my human master, it is not a story for putrid bodily filth like you. But don’t worry, you are certainly worthy enough to feel the kiss of the Casull’s bullets exploding into your empty skull. The silver cross from Lancaster Church that was melted into these bullets will send you on a one way ticket to Hell for all eternity.”

The priest growls as he lifts Glimmer off the ground, shielding himself with her body. He speaks from behind her purple hair, “You’ll have to kill the girl if you want to get to me. And I have a feeling that you can’t, you pathetic lapdog of the humans! But listen to reason, we’re vampires no? We can work together! Let me go-”

The priest’s pleas for an alliance and empty flattery drains out of Glimmer’s mind as she makes direct eye contact with Alucard, their crimson eyes transfixing her with their stare. Insider her head she feels something, a foreign presence that feels unnatural but simultaneously reassuring. As Alucard speaks to her she can feel their voice in her mind as well as her ears, as if they were physically reaching in and touching her innermost self.

“Police girl, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Glimmer answers as the priest shouts above her.

“Before my bullet can pierce that maggot vampire’s heart it will tear through your lungs and chest.”

Glimmer stares at Alucard as the weight of their words settles on her.

“I know you don’t want to die tonight, so I have a proposition for you. Do you want to come with me? I can’t force you to decide one way or another, this decision must be made of your own free will. Now, make the choice!”

Time slows down for her as Glimmer weighs her options. Either way she figures she will die, be it at the hands of Alucard or the vampire behind her. But this stranger, this _vampire_ says they will take her with them, does this mean they can save her? Will she be better off with them? Glimmer takes a deep breath before she gives Alucard her answer.

“Yes.”

Alucard smiles at her, she closes her eyes and waits for the inevitable.

Her eyes shoot open as the tearing, ripping sensation of the bullet passes through her. She can barely tell what is happening as the vampire screeches behind her. As she falls to the ground she can see the priest clutching the hole in his gut, barely alive, until Alucard pierces his heart with their hand. Blood gushes from his wounds before a blue fire engulfs his body, turning him into ash.

Glimmer can’t speak as the hole in her right lung burns when she tries. Alucard kneels down next to her, lifting her head off the ground. Even though darkness encroaches on her vision, she can still make out the sad gentleness of their crimson eyes.

“Remember that the choice was always yours, police girl. Now close your eyes, this will be over quickly.”

Heavy lids close slowly over Glimmer’s decreasing vision as she resigns herself to her fate. The last thing she feels is a sharp piercing sensation in her neck before her consciousness disappears into the void.

* * *

“Wha- where am I?”

Glimmer grunts out the dull pain that racks her body as she sits herself upright in bed, cream colored sheets bunching up under her palms. She looks around at the unfamiliar windowless room, trying to piece together what happened to her as she picks out the simple but elegant furnishings.

Realization hits her suddenly like a runaway truck. “Oh fuck I remember now, I was shot!” 

She pulls up the sky blue pajama top she’s wearing to examine her chest. Expecting to see bloody bandages or a horrible gaping hole, she finds nothing; no holes, no scars, nothing, no evidence that at some point during the night she was shot through the lungs to kill a vampire that had taken her captive.

Her head gently knocks on the wooden backboard as she leans back; was it all a dream? A horrible nightmare? But it felt so real, she can remember the sensation of the bullet punching through her body and the contradictory burning, freezing pain it left behind. She runs her hands down her face, dragging the stress and fatigue down past her chin, as an exhausted groan rocks her body.

“Have a good nap, princess?”

Glimmer’s head snaps toward the source of the familiar voice, nearly smacking the other person’s nose with her own given how close they were. The blonde stranger with piercing crimson eyes greets her with a wide grin that shows off their abnormally long canines. Glimmer blinks as the information processes before she is hurriedly scooching away from the stranger as she screams and points at them.

“It’s you! Oh my god it’s you! That vampire person… you shot me!”

Alucard lifts themself off their seat at the edge of the bed and turns to face the hysterical young woman.

“Most people would say ‘thank you’ to the person who gave them a second chance at life. Speaking of,” they tap the side of their neck, “how does your neck feel?”

Glimmer reaches up to her neck, freezing as her fingers touch something that wasn’t there before; two puncture wounds, slightly smaller than the circumference of a pencil, sit on her left jugular. She throws her hands in the air as she belts out another scream that bounces off the stone walls of the tiny room.

“You’re too loud, police girl.”

Glimmer looks up as a sharply dressed brunette with mismatched eyes waltzes into the room, followed by a snowy haired old woman in a dark indigo vest and slacks. The brunette exhales a puff of smoke out of the opposite side of her mouth as a cigar balances on the other side. 

“You may be a vampire now, but you’re still English. Have some manners.”

A heavy sigh heaves out of Glimmer’s exhausted body as she looks up at the sharp dressed woman.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m a vampire? And where am I, who are you people?”

The woman blows a ring of fine smoke as she looks down her silver rimmed glasses, her amber and azure eyes dripping with contempt and annoyance.

“Again, manners young lady. But to answer your first question, yes, you are a vampire now. A member of the same God forsaken ilk as that disgusting priest in Cheddar, and the crimson dumbass standing beside you.”

Glimmer looks over at Alucard, who is rather jovial despite the insult directed at them. They shoot her a crooked smile. “Name calling is how she shows her love.”

“Shut it, Alucard.” The young woman brushes a strand of chestnut brown hair away from her cold blue eye. “In regards to your other questions, I am Catra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing and this is my family home, the headquarters of the Hellsing Organization.”

“Hellsing Organization?” Glimmer asks.

“We are Her Majesty’s Royal Order of Protestant Knights. We are the monsters that protect England from the _other_ monsters. And as of this moment you are another one of our monsters. Razzel?”

“Yes sir.” 

The old woman steps up to the foot of Glimmer’s bed with a bundle in her arms; Glimmer accepts the bundle, a tan colored uniform with a large black and red patch bearing the Hellsing Organizations crest. Glimmer’s fingers trace over the black lettering on the field of red in the corner; ‘We are on a mission from God’.

Sir Catra begins again, “If you have any further questions, please direct them to Razzel. She is my second in command and is the oldest human member of this organization.” Catra shifts her piercing gaze over to Alucard. “And you. I want you to meet me in my quarters immediately.”

An exaggerated gasp escapes Alucard as they feign surprise. “Sir Catra! It is unbecoming of you to proposition me in public like this! I knew your feelings for me were strong, but I never would have surmised-”

“ _Adora_.”

Something clicks in Alucard when that name leaves Catra’s lips, and their perverted mirth disappears immediately.

“My quarters. _Now_.” Catra gives a nod to Razzel before turning to leave, her long chestnut hair dancing in the air as she spins on her heel.

Alucard smiles at the retreating back of the woman before giving Glimmer a pat on the shoulder. 

“I’d love to stay and chat some more, but duty calls.” They step backwards into the wall and their body melts into shadow as they make contact. They wave back as their body sinks deeper into the pool of black shadows, leaving Glimmer a sing-songy ‘Have fun with Razz’ before they disappear completely.

Glimmer sighs, the fatigue and emotional strain of the last two minutes adding extra weight to her already heavy current distress. She looks up at Razzel, who stands at attention at the edge of her bed. The crushing awkwardness of the silence is compounded by the patient smile the old woman wears.

Unable to bear it any longer, Glimmer clears her throat before initiating small talk, “So… Razzel. Um, are you like a butler or something?”

“Yes ma’am, I have been serving the Hellsing family in that capacity for over fifty years.”

Glimmer whistles in amazement. “Fifty years? That’s uh- that’s a long time.”

“Quite.”

“Right. So, um, what do you do around here then?”

An amused smile dances on Razzel’s face. “I butle, ma’am.”

“Haha-haaaa, right. Riiiight. I’m just gonna,” Glimmer points down at the cream colored sheets covering her legs, “just gonna count threads or… something.”

* * *

Catra runs her hand up the oak bannister as she crests the top of the second flight of stairs. Her footsteps echo in the empty hallway save for the lone guard patrolling the halls; the man steps aside as she approaches and salutes her, waiting for her to pass before resuming his business. She approaches the door to her room, the new varnished alder wood a welcoming sight after a very tiring day; her hand reaches out to grasp the ornate brass door handle but stops as her senses alert her to a familiar, bothersome presence that is already beginning to vex her.

She sighs as she opens the door to the dark bedroom, illuminated only by the faint moonlight that spills between the slits of the drawn mauve curtains and the two glowing crimson eyes hovering in mid air. Catra pays the watching eyes as they follow her to her nightstand. A tug of the brass bead chain activates the lamp, sending a warm glow that reveals Catra’s bed, her nightstand, and the outline of Alucard sitting comfortably in her great great grandfather’s Bergere chair.

“I see your needlework is as impressive as your swordsmanship,” Alucard says as they marvel at the embroidery hoop in their hands. “What is this going to be, I wonder? A doily for your afternoon tea? Or perhaps a handkerchief to cleanse the blood of our enemies from your face?”

Catra doesn’t answer them, she strides over to the chair with steady, even steps; Alucard transforms into a black mist and dashes away as she approaches, reforming a few feet before her as she sits down. Catra reaches over to a basket full of sewing and embroidery materials, pulling out golden thread that shines in the warm bedroom light as she threads it into a needle.

“What is the mission of the Hellsing Organization, Alucard?” Catra asks, her voice kept level as she presses the needle through the egg shell colored fabric.

Alcuard folds their hand over their heart. “To annihilate all supernatural and demonic threats to Britain and the Crown, my Master.”

“Correct. Our duty is to slay monsters, not create them.”

“I have the feeling that you’re angry with me. Is this because I turned the big tittied police girl?”

Catra’s hand stalls as she’s finishing a stitch as a wave of rage washes over her.

“Yes, I am upset that you turned the... _police girl_ without my consent.”

“To my defense, I wasn’t aware that she had such big titties until after we got her vest off. More like an unexpected bonus than anything really.”

“That is besides the point, Alucard. You were ordered to kill the vampire and all of its ghouls, not to create a new plaything for your perverse pleasures. I swear to God, between your whimsies and this recent vampire incursion I’m going to die from a fucking annyerism, shit!”

Catra’s hand pulls away from the embroidery hoop a millisecond after stabbing her finger. She brings her injured finger closer for inspection, observing a bead of blood form at the pin prick before gravity forces it down the curvature of her finger leaving a bloody trail. She removes herself from the sight to stare into Alucards brilliant crimson eyes, their expression neutral despite the presence of blood.

“Why did you do it Adora?”

“The decision was not mine to make. I gave the police girl a choice, and she took it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Their answer does little to assuage her stress, but Catra lets the matter go at that. She’s about to clean her finger on her handkerchief when a thought springs to her mind; she holds her finger out before her, the warm blood flowing from the wound beginning to drip on the floor. She can’t help the smile she wears as she watches Alucard’s eyes hone in on the wounded digit.

“Kneel.”

Alucard chuckles, their feet unmoving as they appear before Catra. They bend a knee and reach out with a gloved hand to take Catra’s, but before they can do so she pulls it above and away from them. They look up at her, their face neutral but a small flare of annoyance dances in their eyes.

Catra tuts the vampire. “Not yet. Swear to me that you will not act without my express orders to do so. I am the master and you are my servant, only I can make you move or stop. Swear this to me, Adora.”

Alucard closes their eyes as an amused, toothy grin parts their lips. “I swear to you, my master, that I shall follow your orders to the letter and not deviate from your word. I shall be a loaded gun whose trigger can only be pulled by you. I swear this to you, Catra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. My one and only master.”

A smug satisfaction wells up in Catra watching the most powerful vampire in existence on their knees and swearing fealty to her. Along with a jolt of sinful pleasure. But she lets the thoughts pass like a chance meeting with a wild animal before it scampers off into the underbrush; the sin of pride has been the downfall of many a great leader, and she shall not succumb to the temptation.

Catra brings her finger back down as Alucard opens their mouth, their tongue trembling slightly as if in anticipation for the treat. A satisfied and lustful moan rumbles in the vampire’s throat as Catra’s skin makes contact with their tongue, their hot breath and the drunken desire in their eyes sending shivers up her arm. She bites down on her tongue as Alucard begins to lap at the blood and suck on the very tip of her index finger.

Her voice wavers slightly as she begins to speak, “Be careful not to bite, Adora.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know yet if I want to make an actual series out of this or not. Honestly if I did it wouldn't deviate very far from the plot of Ultimate, maybe some of the anime, manga, and abridged splashed in and my little twist, but I am not clever enough to make something super original and great. If y'all would like to see more let me know and it might get me to do it; if I do I can guarantee that you will have Bow as Pip and Scorpia as Anderson (really the only characters I have decided on adapting, really hard trying to find SPOP characters to cast for Millennium for obvious reasons).
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this apparition that crawled out of the grave and strangled me until I wrote it. Leave a kudos or a comment if you'd like, it fuels me and my vampiric desire for validation and praise. See ya space cowboy! (Wait, shit, wrong anime)


End file.
